Silent Comforts
by Saramund
Summary: Tag for Death Knell. A series of stories set around one simple misunderstanding. Spoilers for Death Knell and Chimera.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Understanding SamTitle: Understanding Sam   
  
Series: Silent Comfort 1/4   
  
Author: Saramund  
  
E-mail: Saramund@hotmail.com  
  
Season: 7   
  
Spoilers: Death Knell, Chimera  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 and its characters are property of Stargate (II)   
  
productions,   
  
Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.   
  
This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only and absolutely no money   
  
exchanged hands as a result of this story. No copyright infringement is   
  
intended. The   
  
original characters, situations and story are property of the author. This story   
  
may not   
  
be posted anywhere else without the consent of the author.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
Sam watched her father leave the Infirmary through tear-filled eyes. She bit   
  
her lip and turned her face away as he turned the corner, feeling her heart slowly   
  
crumble beneath the weight of grief and pain.  
  
  
  
  
  
Just days ago, she had witnessed the massacre of more of her friends than she   
  
cared to remember. Captains Johnson and Rowen, Lieutenant Glenn - cut down right in   
  
front of her, the other 10 lieutenants on rotation to the Beta site, along with   
  
numerous NCO's, Jaffa and Tok'ra. All friends of hers, some of them good friends, all of   
  
them good work-mates. Now they were gone, their memorial service held just the day   
  
before. Janet had denied her permission to attend, denied her the opportunity to   
  
say good-bye to all those with whom she'd worked and laughed and joked.  
  
  
  
  
  
And now her father had left her. He said he'd see her again, but in their line   
  
of work, there were no guarantees. He worked for a rebel force, whose mode of operation   
  
was to infiltrate the enemy. He worked undercover. The chances of discovery and   
  
death were high. And now he was leaving, with no definite promise of returning.  
  
  
  
  
  
Yet this grief wasn't what hurt the most. Yes, it hurt, that was nothing to be   
  
dismissed. She ached within her very heart for all the people who had died. For   
  
the families who had lost their loved ones and would never know the reason why. She   
  
hurt for the ones who survived. The ones who - like herself - were now suffering   
  
survivor's guilt. But mostly, she hurt for herself.  
  
  
  
Sam was never one to indulge in self-pity. Occasionally yes, she had moments of   
  
selfishness, who didn't? But the majority of her personality was reflected   
  
outwards, towards helping others. It was what made her such a good officer, and she knew   
  
it. But right now, the last thing she cared about, was being a good officer.  
  
  
  
Right now, what she wanted most of all was to curl up into a tiny ball and sob   
  
herself to sleep. The desire, the need to do so, was almost overwhelming. The only   
  
thing preventing her from succumbing was the knowledge that she was in a very public   
  
infirmary where anyone could walk in, at any time, without announcement. It was   
  
that alone which kept her composed.  
  
  
  
  
  
It's not your fault. The memory of his voice came back to haunt her as she lay   
  
there holding back her tears, his tone soft and gentle. Don't blame yourself. There   
  
was nothing else you could have done. He'd continued in this manner, constantly   
  
talking to her, trying to comfort her. His hand wrapped around hers, holding it gently,   
  
his hazel-brown eyes pale with worry. But it didn't help. His voice didn't help.   
  
His attempt to comfort, did not bring comfort. Eventually she had asked to be left   
  
alone, wishing desperately for silence. And he'd complied. Without question, without   
  
complaint. As he left, she'd stifled a small sob, realising now what her heart   
  
had known for several weeks.  
  
  
  
  
  
He didn't understand her. He never would.   
  
  
  
  
  
It was this realisation that cracked her heart. She'd finally opened herself up   
  
to another. Finally allowed her heart to feel something other than dread and fear   
  
of harm, at the thought of sharing her inner-most self with another. Yet still, for   
  
all of her openness and honesty, he'd never truly come to realise exactly who she   
  
really was. He didn't understand what she needed. He never would.  
  
  
  
  
  
Shutting off the memory of his departure, she closed her eyes in defeat and   
  
turned on her side to curl into the hard mattress, snuffling her face into the pillow.   
  
She blinked a few times, then opened her eyes in amazement.  
  
  
  
  
  
He was sitting there, silently watching over her. She was unsure just how long   
  
he'd been there, but it didn't matter. He said nothing, did nothing. Just continued   
  
to watch her with unblinking brown eyes. Sitting upright on a hard infirmary chair, his   
  
fingers played with a pen probably lifted from someone else's desk, slowly tumbling it   
  
over and between his fingers. He watched over her, allowing her to deal with her   
  
grief and despair in her own time. Refraining from offering empty platitudes or hollow   
  
comforts, which echoed insincerely in her ears.  
  
  
  
He sat there, as he'd done after she killed the drone, offering her a shoulder   
  
to lean on - both figuratively and literally - and an ear to listen, should she need it.   
  
But most comforting of all, he offered her that which she craved the most - his silent   
  
support, his wordless comfort. Giving her the quiet - the peace - she so desperately   
  
needed.   
  
  
  
She raised a small smile in thank you, still not speaking. He nodded silently   
  
in return. She knew he'd understand. He always had.  
  
  
  
  
  
He always would.  
  
  
  
  
  
-fin- 


	2. Those Silent Words

Title: Those silent wordsTitle: Those silent words.  
  
Spoilers: Chimera, Death Knell  
  
Rating: G  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
She smiled at me then closed her eyes and settled into sleep, curling up into   
  
the hard infirmary mattress. I continued to sit beside her, rolling the pen through my   
  
fingers as I watched over her sleep, ensuring she got some rest. She'd been to hell and   
  
back in the last few days, and this was the least I could do for her. The absolute   
  
least. But it was all I had.  
  
  
  
I'd tried words on her before, but they never worked. I just wasn't good with   
  
them. I never had been. I'd figured out after my first - and only - disastrous attempt   
  
at giving her some pithy speech on how she would get over it, how it wasn't her fault,   
  
that she didn't need to hear it. Especially not from me. So I'd shut the hell up and   
  
continued to stay quiet ever since, even today. This was the way I worked best. Be there   
  
for her - be there for all of them - but be there silently.  
  
  
  
I think she knew why I was here - I'm pretty sure that's what the smile was for.   
  
A kind of 'thank you for being here'. And if my presence alone would allow her to   
  
smile, then hell, I wasn't leaving even if Napoleon herself came in and ordered me out.  
  
  
  
Hours before I'd seen her new boyfriend walk out, shoulders hunched and head   
  
down. I'd been sitting waiting for permission to visit, sitting with everyone   
  
else who cared for her and wanted to support her through this. Her boyfriend had walked   
  
past us without a word, and we watched in silence as he turned the corner towards the   
  
elevators. Then her father had stood up from beside me and gone in to see her.   
  
I knew the subject of that conversation, and knew without a doubt that she'd blame   
  
herself for the fall of the alliance. Of course she was wrong - the fall of the   
  
alliance had nothing to do with her and everything to do with mistrust - but I knew that   
  
would make absolutely no difference to her mood.  
  
  
  
So that, along with the other more pressing worries, was why I was sitting in   
  
the half-light of the infirmary, watching her sleep. She looked terrible, pale and   
  
tired. Exhausted, actually. And intolerably sad - which I understood. Over 80 of our   
  
people had died in the explosion which destroyed our off-world base. And almost   
  
all of those people had been known to her. Top that with the departure of her   
  
father, and the sadness that was shadowing her face was completely understandable. But   
  
that didn't mean I had to like it.  
  
  
  
The exact opposite in fact. I hated that she hurt. I hated that her leg was   
  
bandaged and immobilised. I hated the stitches in her scalp, stitches that closed the   
  
gash which had bled so profusely over her face. I hated that she'd had to live   
  
through the attack on the Beta Site. I hated that her father had opted out and run away   
  
with the Tok'ra. I hated that she had only me here to help her through this, that her   
  
family - and boyfriend - had deserted her. But mostly? I hated the fact that I couldn't   
  
help her the way she needed, the way I wanted. Hated that I couldn't hold her,   
  
couldn't dry her tears. That I couldn't tell her all the things that I wanted to, all the   
  
things that I needed to say, but which never came out in the right words, when I tried.  
  
  
  
No, they came out as 'Carter' more often than not. Or 'Major, you okay?'. And   
  
occasionally, when pressed, I may - just may - actually call her by her first   
  
name. But the words I wanted to say, I couldn't. Because she didn't want to hear   
  
them. Not from me. Not now. Probably never. Those words belonged to her boyfriend now.  
  
  
  
So now I sit here in silence, waiting for him to come back and say them to her.   
  
Say those words that I had missed my opportunity to say.  
  
  
  
And I hated him for it.  
  
  
  
-fin- 


	3. Wipe away all of your tears

Title: Wipe away all of your tearsTitle: Wipe away all of your tears  
  
Spoilers: Chimera and Death Knell   
  
Authors Note: Title from My Immortal, Evanescence  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
I stood outside the door to the Infirmary, hesitating on the threshold. She'd   
  
asked for some time alone and I'd given it to her. Gone to the Mess and had some food   
  
while I waited until I thought it was time to go back. Time enough to herself for   
  
whatever reason she needed it.  
  
  
  
She'd come back from the other planet - and just that thought made my mind   
  
hiccup in amazement - injured and unconscious, born on a stretcher between her   
  
Commanding Officer and Teal'c, the alien friend of theirs. I knew this because   
  
Doctor Jackson had told me while we were waiting for her to come out of surgery.   
  
All of us, her father included, seated in the corridor waiting for news.  
  
  
  
I'd stayed with her while she recovered from the anaesthetic, talking to and   
  
soothing her through the confusion of awakening from that deep sleep. I'd whispered to   
  
her as she'd cried into her pillow, holding her hand in mine and giving her what   
  
comfort I could. Then she'd asked for me to leave. Just for a while. Her voice was so   
  
forlorn and desolated, I'd granted her request immediately.  
  
  
  
Now I was about to go back in again, and I felt nervous. I wasn't sure why, but   
  
I had this feeling that I'd done the wrong thing. That maybe she hadn't meant what   
  
she said. That maybe, just maybe I should have stayed. But this was Sam. She   
  
never prevaricated. What she said, she meant.  
  
  
  
I finally opened the door and stepped quietly inside, trying to keep my   
  
footsteps silent in case she had managed to fall asleep once again. The curtain around her bed   
  
was closed, the lights in the Infirmary dimmed. A nurse at one of the stations was   
  
flicking through the paperwork on the desk, searching for something. Finally, she opened   
  
a drawer and pulled out a pen before sitting down and filling in a form of some   
  
kind. I walked over to the curtain and peeked in.  
  
  
  
Sam way lying curled on her side, her feet closest to me. At the head of the   
  
bed, in a hard plastic chair was her C.O. Sam was awake, staring silently at Colonel   
  
O'Neill, who was staring just as silently back. I almost cleared my throat to announce   
  
my presence. But something stayed me. I think it was Sam's small movement as   
  
tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. Tears of grief, no doubt, for those she had seen   
  
killed in the attack from our enemies that she had somehow managed to survive.  
  
  
  
I felt an urge to go to her, to wipe those tears away with my own hand. To hold   
  
her and comfort her. But again, I hesitated.  
  
  
  
I watched, stunned and resentful, as she reached out a bandaged, drip-festooned   
  
hand towards her C.O. He stared at the hand in bewilderment before letting go   
  
of the pen that he had been fiddling with and took her hand in his. His eyes widened   
  
and I watched as his face softened from his usual harsh expression into one that I   
  
didn't care to describe, but filled me with morbid dread even so. She brought his hand   
  
towards her face, and for a moment I thought she was going to kiss it. But   
  
instead, she put it to her cheek, palm inwards, then sighed and closed her eyes again.   
  
O'Neill didn't move, just watched her as she rested, face cupped in his hand.  
  
  
  
I felt a shiver of awareness run through my body and suddenly realised that I'd   
  
make a huge mistake. Somehow, in the last few hours I'd managed to lose her. I'd   
  
been with her since she'd awoken, only leaving on her request. I'd been attentive   
  
and caring, showing her how I felt with words and comfort, yet I'd lost her. I   
  
hesitated on confronting the two of them before deciding to withdraw. Better the man who   
  
knew he was lost than the man who struggled for the hopeless. I had my pride, damn   
  
it.  
  
  
  
My last glimpse was of him reaching forward to brush her cheek with his free   
  
hand. And I knew that he was wiping away her tears.   
  
  
  
-fin- 


	4. Silence

Title: SilenceTitle: Silence  
  
Spoilers: Chimera and Death Knell   
  
A/N: A slight detour - this is a little different, and we've got two different   
  
POV's to contend with.  
  
  
  
~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~  
  
  
  
  
  
Teal'c and I had taken turns. It was 'old hand' for us both. To sit here and   
  
wait turn by turn until there was some news. Until we were allowed in to see whomever it   
  
was we were waiting for.  
  
  
  
This time round it was Sam. I saw her in my mind now, as I'd seen her when   
  
she'd been brought through the gate. Pale and unconscious, on a stretcher held by Jack   
  
and Teal'c. There were others who had followed, who could have helped with the   
  
load, but I knew that the two of them had carried their precious cargo by themselves,   
  
refusing any and all offered aid.  
  
  
  
It was something that we did. We didn't even think about it. One of us was   
  
hurt? Then we all looked out for them. And God help anyone who got in our way.   
  
  
  
It was my turn to wait alone - as Teal'c had gone to get me some much needed   
  
coffee and himself some water. And it was my turn to watch as Sam's new 'boyfriend'   
  
walked past me to go to her once again. To sit beside her. A place where both   
  
Teal'c and I had yet to be. I opened my mouth to tell him that Jack was with her at   
  
the moment, watching over her, but he walked past too quickly for me to say   
  
anything. So I sat there and waited for someone to come and keep me company in my silent   
  
vigil.  
  
  
  
And I'd managed to sit silently, immobile, as Peter Shanahan had erupted out of   
  
the infirmary swinging doors, his face red with emotion. I watched speechless as he   
  
stormed down the corridor, then blinked in shock as he bashed his clenched fist   
  
into the concrete wall, a dull thud echoing down the corridor. He left without   
  
glancing my way, and I could hear his heavy footsteps as they continued away.  
  
  
  
I shot a look at the door, eyebrows beetling behind my glasses. Something in   
  
there had set him off.  
  
  
  
Before I knew it, my curiosity had overwhelmed my sense of self-preservation   
  
(albeit small sense of self-preservation, I heard a Jack-like voice inside my head   
  
chide) and I stood up and walked over to the swinging doors and pulled one slightly open. I   
  
peered in and saw that the curtain around Sam's bed had been pulled back.  
  
  
  
I blinked.  
  
  
  
I blinked again.  
  
  
  
I debated taking off my glasses and cleaning them, but somehow I knew that the   
  
image would still be there.  
  
  
  
Jack was sitting on the side of Sam's bed and was holding her. In his arms. And   
  
he was rocking her, obviously soothing her as she cried into his shoulder. I stood   
  
watching, unable to move as he stroked her back, his hand going up and down   
  
gently on the rough blue smock that she was wearing.  
  
  
  
And then I watched him do something I never thought I'd see. I stumbled back,   
  
letting to door swing closed, and then grasped for the chair I'd been sitting on   
  
as my knees gave out in shock.   
  
  
  
-o0o-  
  
  
  
I stood at 'ease' as DanielJackson informed me of O'Neill's actions, sipping   
  
anxiously at his beverage as he did so. While I wished mightily for this   
  
occurrence he was revealing to me to have come to pass, I found myself doubting the word of my   
  
team-mate.   
  
  
  
For although I knew of the deep affection between MajorCarter and O'Neill, I   
  
doubted that they would act upon this affection. Given that MajorCarter had   
  
recently developed a personal relationship with a person outside of my sphere of more   
  
personal friendships, and O'Neill was more than aware of this newly formed   
  
personal relationship, the possibility of any kind of development between the two was   
  
highly unlikely.  
  
  
  
Yet, despite this, DanielJackson insisted that he witnessed O'Neill kissing   
  
MajorCarter. He defined this as a kiss to her temple, rather than on her mouth,   
  
yet this is still, in Tau'ri definitions, a most intimate of gestures. I know I   
  
frowned (an attitude of my face that I have endeavoured to do less of recently) yet   
  
DanielJackson insisted that I look for myself.  
  
  
  
So I did. I examined the scene within the infirmary before reluctantly closing   
  
the swinging door and turning to my team mate. I hesitated.  
  
  
  
It seemed that I had an apology to make.  
  
  
  
-fin-   
  
  
  
That's it! The end. Finito! NO MORE! (Got it? *glares at muse*) 


End file.
